Run Away (7 page)

Chapter 11

April 16, Thailand

“S
AM’S STILL IN
bed, marinating in shame and tequila sweat,” Dave practically sang, the café’s air-­conditioning allowing his voice to resume normal, ear-­piercing ser­vice.

“Delightful.” Russia shot Kayla a sideways look. Kayla hadn’t fully divulged what had happened between her and Sam in the park the night before. That would mean explaining about her brother. But Russia had a well-­trained radar for these things. Two ­people disappearing together for two hours, then returning to the hostel in mutual silence, spelled gossip.

Sam, it transpired, did not share the same sense of discretion.

“So, Kayla. I hear you shot old Sammy boy down last night. Brutal—­I like it!” Dave offered his hand to Kayla, demanding a high five.

Kayla declined. “He told you?”

“Well, yes,” Dave said, dropping his arm and looking hurt at the rejection. “But he would have told me anything last night. He told me all of the passwords and security questions I’d need to commit serious fraud on his Internet banking, but I’m a top friend and just pinched a tenner.”

“That was noble of you.”

Russia chimed in, “I think I deserve a cut, Dave. I did buy him that shot rack of black Sambuca, so I’m to thank for getting him in such a state to begin with.” She winked at him.

“All right then, missus, I’ll buy you breakfast. Full English?”

“Please.” Russia smiled, pecking him on the lips with a delicate, entirely romantic kiss. They both froze, realizing that their public display of affection meant they could no longer deny that things between them were going a little beyond a drunken hookup. They’d been nearly inseparable in the three weeks since they first met. Kayla and Bling exchanged a smirk, but decided not to humiliate the happy ­couple with the dramatic scene the moment warranted. Kayla couldn’t help but wonder when Dave, the eternally loose-­lipped chatterbox, would bother telling Russia about his ALS.

Bling turned to face her. “So, uh, Sam tried to kiss you?” She couldn’t meet Kayla’s eye, instead making miniature mountains of salt on the table they were huddled around. The café’s booths were dirty, the smell of grease clung to the air, the laminated, handwritten menus were peeling, and the owner was a lecherous old man with a hunchback. But when you need bacon, you need bacon.

“Yeah,” Kayla admitted, unsure why she felt guilty for telling Bling. Maybe because she’d seen her friend’s eyes linger on Sam for a moment longer than usual, or because Bling often made excuses to initiate skin-­to-­skin contact. Nobody was quicker to take up Sam’s request for sunscreen to be rubbed into his back than her. “It was a weird moment. We were both pretty drunk. But it was nothing.”

“Oh my God, do you think he likes you?” A girly giggle an octave too high and a failed attempt at a casual tone. Subtle, Bling was not.

“Nah, we’re just friends.” Kayla found herself wondering what Sam had told Dave in answer to that inevitable question. Or whether boys even discussed that kind of thing beyond the obligatory, “She’s hot.”

“Really?” Bling tucked a lock of hair behind her ears and sipped the watery apple juice in front of her. As a strict vegan, it was the only thing she could really order. “Do you like him as more than a friend? You guys do spend a lot of time together.”

Before she could reply, Sam entered the café, scanning the room for some familiar faces. Kayla’s stomach fluttered. She wondered how he’d act today, uncertain which of them was actually in the wrong. Was he the kind of stubbornly proud man her father was, who’d pretend that nothing had happened and treat her with even more aloofness than he had before?

“Hi guys! Would anyone like a coffee? Kayla? Let me guess . . . triple shot espresso with cream?”

Kayla smiled to herself.

T
HE BUS JOURNEY
to Kanchanaburi took almost three hours. Instead of sitting next to Sam as she’d have liked to, Kayla decided to make him sweat a little longer and chose Bling as her travel partner. It took all of the willpower in her arsenal not to make eye contact with him throughout the whole journey, even though she knew already that she forgave him for being overly forward.

Whether she forgave herself for rejecting him was an entirely different matter.

Their new accommodation was the height of luxury in comparison with the last, though still squalor to anyone in possession of nostrils or, well, retinas. Kayla felt a little grateful that she’d been too hung over to insert her contact lenses that morning. When it came to hostel decor, ignorance really was bliss, though there was no disguising the intrinsic scent of mildew. It gave her a strange little thrill to imagine her snobby parents’ faces if they could see where she was staying.

Oliver had shown them to their room. After last night in the park, Kayla had started to notice the way he looked at her—­like he was hungry. Sam was right. It was gross. Over the past few weeks, he’d taken quite the liking to her, staring intensely and making derogatory comments whenever she was in the vicinity. It was almost as if he believed that referencing the “slutty blond chick” he’d “nailed” the previous evening would convince Kayla of his sensational lovemaking skills. It didn’t.

Still, whether he remembered the events of the previous night or not, Oliver resumed his usual disgusting ways. As he was eventually leaving Kayla, Russia, and Bling’s bedroom, he’d offered to show them around the finest drinking establishments in the area. He’d said this while twiddling his spiky, overly gelled hair and smoothing down his groomed eyebrows in their murky mirror, and so hadn’t noticed Russia’s stifled laughter from the farthest bed. With a final, delightful parting comment (“If your bed is too gross, you’re welcome to share mine”), he strutted back into the hallway.

Kayla let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. His presence made her uneasy.

As the girls were unpacking, there was another knock on the cardboardlike door, which was folded pathetically against the wall at an extreme angle. Sam stood in the doorway. He looked proud of himself, despite his disheveled mane, which hadn’t seen a hairdresser’s scissors since they’d arrived in Thailand. “Ladies, I come bearing snacks,” he said triumphantly, tossing a family pack of tortilla chips onto the nearest bed. He knew the way to a hungry girl’s heart. “Kayla, can we chat quickly?”

Kayla grumbled. “All right, but not for too long. The Doritos will be demolished by the time I get back.” Russia had already torn into the packet like there was gold dust at the bottom.

“I love where your priorities lie,” Sam laughed as he followed Kayla out into the narrow hallway. Then, glancing in both directions to make sure they didn’t have company, he shuffled his feet awkwardly and said, “Look, Kayla, I’m sorry—­”

“It’s fine,” she interrupted. “We were both drunk. Let’s just forget about it.”

“Yeah, we were, but . . . do you really want to just forget about it?” Sam pretended to examine his flip-­flops.

“Seems like the right thing to do.”

“Okay. If that’s what you want.” He tried, and failed, not to look too put out.

“Yeah.”

Uncomfortable silence filled the corridor. Sam started to dig around in his pocket. “I got you something. I was going to give it to you last night, but . . . well, I forgot.”

“You forgot?” She laughed. “Must be a special gift.”

“Hey, I forgot my own name last night. I forgot what country we were in. I forgot what year it is. Give me a break, I’m a useless drunk. Anyway, it’s really stupid. Totally daft, really. But, um, here you go.” He opened his palm to display a friendship bracelet. It was a delicate, woven creation in blue, green, and turquoise threads, with a single silver bead in the center. “It’s so cheesy, I know. I got it off some random woman at Songkran. She wouldn’t leave me alone till I bought it. Honestly, I swear I only looked at her for a fraction of a second, but she pounced on me . . .”

Kayla grinned. She almost didn’t want to smile. She wanted to act cool, not like a schoolgirl being presented with her very first Valentine’s Day card. But Sam’s ridiculous cuteness did something funny to her facial muscles. They no longer behaved as she told them to. “That’s so sweet, Sam!”

“Oh, I mean, it’s not really. It’s just because she, uh, made me buy it. And I thought I might as well give it to someone, ’cause I’d bought it, obviously. And it sort of made sense to give it to you.” He bashfully rubbed the back of his head, tilting his head and allowing his lips to twist into a semismile. Kayla imagined what it’d be like if he tried to kiss her again. Probably salty, from the heat-­induced sweat on his upper lip, but gentle and tender. She’d have to reach up on her tiptoes, as he was so tall, and he’d wrap his thick, muscular arms around her waist to support her. Her skin tingled at the prospect.

“Will you put it on for me?”

It wasn’t a romantic moment. Sam’s huge hands weren’t built for dainty work, fumbling with the ends of the bracelet and trying numerous times to maneuver the strands into something vaguely resembling a knot. But Kayla didn’t mind the delay. It meant that Sam’s hands lightly tickled the inside of her wrists, which felt, at that moment, like the most intimate touch in the world.

“There you go.” He stood back, admiring his shoddy handiwork. He laughed at the clumsy knot, bigger than the bead itself. “You’ll never be able to get that off now. I’m going to be with you wherever you are in the world.”

Kayla looked up at him and smiled. “I hope so.”

Chapter 12

May 4, Thailand

K
I
D
S
,
A
S
A
general rule, were good judges of character. They sensed an aura about a person that most adults had lost the ability to recognize. And they flocked around Sam like he was a shiny new toy, clinging onto his legs and giggling manically for no obvious reason.

After Kayla was presented with the friendship bracelet, the group spent just over two weeks in Kanchanaburi. They visited Erawan National Park, exploring the grounds through the metropolis of wooden footbridges and swimming in the freshwater pools, which were fed by seven tiers of tumbling waterfalls. They attended an open air Thai cooking lesson, which saw them peruse the aromatic food markets for fresh ingredients to use in their dishes. Russia and Dave got rather carried away and held a competition to see who could use the most varied range of herbs and spices in their menu. Russia won, but the chef wasn’t too impressed.

They also went on a temple tour, where they learned all about Buddhism, and practiced their own meditations at Daen Maha Mongkol Meditation Center. When Kayla originally read the itinerary, she’d expected to find the whole day awkward and embarrassing, and already planned to mock the entire ordeal with the group afterward. She’d never been a religious person, but was strangely moved by the experience.

They entered the center by crossing the teak bridge over Mae Nam Khwae Noi, changed into the plain white shirts and trousers provided to them, and paid their respects to the wooden Buddha image in the meditation pavilion. This, Kayla had found cringe-­worthy. But the overwhelming tranquility of the whole sanctuary was intoxicating; the more she was exposed to it, the more peace-­drunk she felt. She found herself experiencing pangs of jealousy toward the three hundred residents who lived there all year round. It was basic, sure. Nothing extravagant. There were no smart phones, social media, or reality TV. Perhaps that was why she had never witnessed those serene smiles in the Western world. The relaxed, tension-­free expressions would make the Botox industry redundant, if the movement was to catch on.

After an afternoon of guided meditations, she had turned to Sam and smiled. She whispered, “I feel so . . . you know?”

“I know,” he replied. He took hold of her hand and squeezed it gently. Every inch of her body tingled.

It hadn’t lasted, of course. As soon as she’d heard deep house music again and spoken at a higher volume than a murmur and smelled exhaust fumes, the illusion was shattered.

They had arrived in Sangkhlaburi, close to the Burmese border, five days ago to begin their planned volunteer fortnight. Most of the Escaping Grey group had opted to aid the local children in a holistic community center, where their sole job was to ensure that the kids had fun. Kayla was just grateful for the chance to escape Oliver’s sleazy gaze and slimy comments, and spend time with some adorable little ­people with tiny feet and absolutely no concept of the evil in the world.

“This language barrier is doing wonders for my creativity.” Sam laughed as a swarm of Thai kids ran around his feet. “Trying to communicate with kids who think I’m speaking gibberish is forcing me to think outside the box. Gotta get inventive with my silly dances and comic facial expressions.” He mimicked a pig’s oink with alarming accuracy, forcing the tip of his nose into a snout with his index finger and waddling around like an overweight swine. The kids fell about with laughter, but not half as much as Kayla did.

Kayla wished she was good with kids. She tried blowing raspberries, sticking her tongue out, and playing the timeless “I’ve got your nose” trick her dad had always played on her, but could never illicit the same laughter that naturals like Sam could. Most children wrinkled their noses, looked at her like an especially smelly sock, and turned around to see where the real funny ­people were.

That night would essentially be the start of their weekend. They’d arrived in the Sangkhlaburi district on a Sunday and were thrown straight into the deep end on Monday morning, working long hours every day since. It was worlds apart from the party trip they’d been on thus far, and while Kayla had appreciated the change of pace, she was looking forward to letting her hair down a little. That she’d be asleep before nine
P
.
M
.
was, however, entirely likely.

Russia ambled over to her. She had an altogether lackluster attitude toward children, and begrudged them for robbing her of precious sleep. She needed at least ten hours a night to function as a proper human being. Suppressing a yawn, she said, “What do you say to the idea that tonight, instead of partying in a club, because I’m too damn tired for that, we should chill out with some cheap wine, cheap cigarettes, and a little bag of somethin’ special?” She winked at Kayla, patting the pocket of her faded denim shorts. It took Kayla a second to realize what she meant.

“Russia! You can’t bring weed to a kids’ community center!” Kayla hissed, though eh

he couldn’t resist shaking her head and chuckling. She had to admire her friend’s blatant disregard for socially acceptable behavior.

“Sure I can. It’s not like I’m going to grind it up and put it in their rice soup. Although that would be entertaining . . . Please, Kay? Let’s get stoned, laugh at nothing, and have the best night’s sleep of our damn lives.”

Kayla laughed. “Okay. Sounds good.”

What harm could it possibly do?

“I
’
M
G
O
I
N
G
T
O
jump! I swear I’m going to do it!”

Cannabis, it seemed, did little to subdue Dave’s hyperactivity. He was perched on the edge of Saphan Mon, the longest wooden bridge in Thailand. Though long, it didn’t look as sturdy as it perhaps should. Dave had watched some native kids jump off the rickety structure into the lake below, and decided that he too should explore his rebellious side. Once he’d clambered up there, he had a change of heart, and had spent the last ten minutes as a performing monkey for his group of friends, who were rolling around on the lake edge hooting with laughter. “You sound like a bunch of owls! You twats. I’m going to jump! Honestly!”

Kayla thought her appendix might burst, as her sides were splitting with uncontrollable hysteria. Sam was clutching onto her knee, shaking silently with tears streaming down his cheeks. Russia lay on her back with her hands behind her head, sporting a dopey Cheshire Cat grin across her face. She was more of a seasoned professional when it came to smoking joints, and was much more relaxed than her desperately uncool companions. She gazed at them like a lioness might look proudly at her cubs. Her intoxicated, incoherent little cubs.

Bling, however, was completely sober and somehow impervious to the merriment of the situation. “Dave, get down from there, you idiot!” she called, met only by the echoes of her friends’ howls bouncing off the wooden bridge.

Russia, in contrast, tried a different tactic. “Dave, if you jump off I’ll shag you.” Bling thumped her on the arm. “What? We’ve already done it, it’s not like that’s enough to make him ju—­”

They heard a plunging splash, followed by the fizzing of foam and the splutters of a man who’d forgotten to take a breath before he leapt blindly into a lake. Russia grinned even wider, narrowing her eyes and nodding her head slowly. “Well, I think that says a lot for my sexual aptitude. Anyone want another drag?” She gestured toward Sam with the glowing remains of the spliff.

“Oh God, I’m the worst med student ever,” Sam laughed, accepting the offer. “You know”—­he inhaled deeply, barely disguising the violent cough he clearly needed to release—­“I think I like weed after all. Maybe I’m more of a bad-­ass than you all thought. Next thing you know I’ll be injecting heroin into my arms, gagging for my next hit.”

They all laughed.

T
H
E
G
U
E
S
T
H
O
U
S
E
W
H
E
R
E
they were staying in Sangkhlaburi was a tiny tin shack with a corrugated roof and a worn veranda out front. The plot it stood on was part faded grass, part overgrown plants with a wild floral border, and because the building was a bungalow, the flora seemed to dwarf the structure.

When they returned from Saphan Mon, dazed and sleepy and altogether a happy bunch of ­people, the owner was sitting in a grubby plastic chair on the veranda, smoking a roll-­up and blowing lazy smoke rings into the warm evening air. There was no sign of the rest of the Escaping Grey group, who had left for a dinner reservation at a local restaurant a ­couple of hours ago.

As they were walking up the dusty path, Kayla felt a big hand gently close around hers. It was more fumbly than romantic, but it still gave her goose bumps. She turned to face its owner.

Sam was smiling at her, half coy, half relaxed. “Fancy going for a walk?” he asked, just quietly enough so the others couldn’t hear him. “It’s still so warm. Maybe we can catch the sunset if we hurry.”

“Sure,” Kayla said, returning his grin.

Shouting their excuses to the other three, she and Sam took off back down the path, trying desperately hard not to trip on the dusty, stone-­studded ground. The others looked totally bewildered.

After slowing their pace to a canter and trying to catch their breath, they walked side by side for a few minutes. Sam chitchatted in disjointed half sentences, losing his train of thought and jumping straight onto another. A lingering effect of the two puffs of weed he’d smoked. Kayla couldn’t help but grin as he erupted into borderline hysteria at the sight of a butterfly.

Eventually they found themselves down by a river. They’d had to navigate some rickety wooden steps and overgrown shrubbery to get to the banks, where Sam promptly flopped to the ground and lay back, sighing. Kayla sat down next to him with only a fraction more grace.

The gushing water, hazy evening light, and scent of frangipani made Kayla want to curl up and nap, but the sight of Sam’s toned stomach poking out from beneath his gray cotton T-­shirt as he stretched was enough to make her heart pound through her pot-­induced haze. She turned on her side to face him, propping herself up on an elbow.

“Doesn’t home seem like thousands of miles away?” she said dreamily, drawing out her words in a relaxed drawl.

“Kayla . . . home
is
thousands of miles away,” Sam said, and laughed so hard that Kayla worried he’d rupture his spleen. “Five thousand, eight hundred and forty-­seven miles, to be precise.”

She shoved his shoulder playfully. His giant frame barely moved. He clutched his side, almost breathless with laughter. “Smart-­ass. You know what I mean.”

He shoved her back just as playfully, except Sam was much stronger than she was, and the push sent her rolling down the bank, laughing too hard to steady herself. He rolled after her—­an inelegant log roll Kayla’s sixth grade gymnastics teacher would have abhorred.

Sam ended up lying on his chest next to Kayla, their arms pressed against each other. He made a pillow with his hands, palms flat against the ground, and rested his temple sleepily on top of them. His eyes were crinkled and twinkling as he gazed at her. “You know I just saved your life.”

Kayla spluttered. “Saved my life? How?”

“Stopped you from rolling into the river. You’d have been swept away by the current and hurtling toward a waterfall if it weren’t for me.”

“You pushed me, you idiot—­”

The words were stolen from her mouth as Sam leaned over and kissed her, so gently she could barely feel it. She shivered despite the humid river air. He pulled away, shyness creeping in, and gave a dimply smile.

Kayla pushed herself up and rolled him onto his back, lowering herself so she was lying on top of him, their chests pressed together and their legs intertwined. His hands rested on the small of her back, pulling her closer into him. His body was warm and hard. She sighed.

And in the moment before she kissed him back, there was something, something on the tip of her tongue—­something she needed to say, except she couldn’t quite figure out what it was.